


It Could Be Hereditary

by yarnandtea



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Drabble, F/F, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-03
Updated: 2012-12-03
Packaged: 2017-11-20 04:26:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/581291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yarnandtea/pseuds/yarnandtea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marian may take after her father in many ways, but there is one way in which she is beginning to realize that she is very much her mother's child.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Could Be Hereditary

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KyeShgall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KyeShgall/gifts).



> A while back there was a discussion on Tumblr about the lack of presence of F/F fiction, and it got me thinking that I don't really write very much of it, even though I do enjoy it. Then kyeshgall mentioned she would love to see more FemHawke/Merrill. So for her Tumblrversary, I wrote this for her. Just a little bit of appreciation.

"Did you ever wish you didn't have magic, Merrill?"

"Did you ever wish you _did_?"

Marian turned away from Merrill, swallowing a lump, not wanting to answer the question. She didn't know why she'd brought the subject up in the first place. A gentle, tentative, touch on her shoulder brought her face back around. Merrill knelt in front of her, large eyes brimming with concern and...embarrassment?

"Forgive me, Lethallan, I should not have presumed." She offered up an unsure smile. "I will answer your question, of course." She pursed her lips, thinking for a moment, before going on. "I have never thought what it would be like not to be gifted with magic," she admitted. "But among the Dalish, it is not considered the curse your people seem to view it as."

"Of course," Marian said with a blush. She should have realized that. The Dalish placed a lot more emphasis on trying to guide how magic was used than on controlling the user. "I guess, I just, wondered if it went both ways." At the tilt of Merrill's head she offered a sheepish smile. "I suppose I have wished that I did. Have magic, I mean."

She brushed a lock of hair out of her face, sighing in defeat when it fell back between her eyes almost immediately. With an absent-minded air, Merrill reached out and smoothed the hair back for her. Marian's eyes followed the other woman's slender fingers, captivated by the spots of color on her fingernails. Merrill moved to take the chair across from Marian, and she idly wondered if Merrill would like it if she painted _her_ fingernails. Or if maybe Merrill would paint them for her.... Lost in that train of thought she almost did not hear Merrill's question.

"Is it because of your father?" Merrill's voice had gone quiet and she was biting her lip. Marian didn't like to talk about Father very often, but she had mentioned a few things. Enough for Merrill to know he had been an apostate.

"Partly," Marian admitted with a bittersweet smile. "I always took after him in so many other ways, humor, looks, protective nature..." She drifted off, imagining her father's face, the laughter in his eyes at a shared joke that had only exasperated Mother and baffled Carver. She shrugged. "It always felt, I don't know, _wrong_ to me that I didn't get his magic as well. That..." she took a deep breath, "that Beth did."

"Ma serannas, Hawke! I did not mean to bring up such an unhappy memory." Merrill was up and out of her chair again, kneeling next to Marian and reaching up to wipe the tears spilling from her eyes. Marian blinked them away and gave a shaky laugh, capturing Merrill's hand with one of her own and holding it to her heart.

"You've nothing to apologize for, Merrill. I'm the fool who brought the subject up in the first place." She gave her head a small shake and then, not wanting to look down upon the other woman, she knelt on the ground as well. "It is good to think about Bethany, after all, and speak of her," she told Merrill. "I would not want her to be forgotten."

"From what you and Carver have said, she was quite lovely," Merrill said earnestly.

"Oh, she was!" Marian exclaimed with a smile. "I think the two of you would have gotten on quite well."

Merrill smiled in return, her eyes flicking down to her hand, still in Marian's grasp. Still pressed against Marian's heart. Marian wondered if she could feel it racing. She looked into Merrill's wide green gaze, and slowly pulled one of her hands free, reaching up to trace the line of Merrill's jaw with the tips of her fingers. Those beloved eyes widened ever so slightly and Merrill inhaled sharply.

"I suppose now I know at least one way I take after Mother, though," Marian said in a light tone. Her heart sped up even more as she leaned in, ever so slightly. "I do seem to have a soft spot for mages," she whispered. Merrill leaned in a little bit, too. "Or," Marian went on, her voice lowering even more, "at least _one_ mage, in particular."

"Is that so, ma vhenan?" Merrill asked, a small smile turning up the corners of her lips.

_Ma vhenan,_ Marian thought, _I have not heard that one before. I should remember to ask her what it means._ But then the space between them had closed and Merrill's lips were upon hers and all thoughts of anything but that moment were gone from her mind.


End file.
